It's the Thought that Counts!
by TheCrowMaiden
Summary: It's late, it's short, and it's fluff. A GiroNatsu one-shot for Christmas. Mentions Natsumi's feelings for Saburo because I think she uses him as an excuse to not realize how she feels about Giroro. Anyway. Natsumi feels like her Christmas lacked that special something, and Giroro may have done something to remedy that.


Natsumi wanted to cry, and boy did she hate that. Towelling her hair while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, she limited herself to no more than the occasional sniffle. She didn't want anyone to know that she was upset because she didn't get what she had wanted for Christmas. Even in her head that sounded petty and childish.

It wasn't as if she had gotten nothing. Her friends had all pitched in to get her a giftcard to her favourite café, Mama got her a really cute sweater along with some other little things, and Fuyuki (being broke again) had promised to take her turn at the housework for a month. A reasonable person would have been happy, but she was disappointed because she had been hoping for something special; something just for her, just for Christmas, and just plain _romantic_.

But Saburo hadn't even given her a card. She sniffled again, stood, and hung the towel up before washing her face. She knew that it had been a long shot to think he might do something, but she still wanted to throw herself onto her bed and have a good cry over it all. To her, Christmas was meant to be about couples, and love, and that kind of thing. She got up and tiptoed to her room, since her family members were already asleep. She'd spent all day pretending everything was fine, and she couldn't tolerate the thought of telling her mother what it was that had upset her. If the stupid frog heard, he would never let her live it down, not in a hundred years.

She climbed into bed without bothering to turn on the light first, her mind set on having a nice long sleep so she could get over her bout of self-pity and get back to normal. She didn't have the time to have the luxury of moping, she needed to be responsible. The pillows seemed lumpier than usual though, and when she gave one a punch to get it into shape, a piece of paper scrunched under her fist.

Natsumi sat up and turned the bedside lamp on in one motion to see what it was that was in her bed. She could never be too careful with those frogs around, they were always trying to pull off some sort of thing. And since a frog was responsible, she was almost right in her suspicions. But when she saw what it was she forgot all about wanting to cry, and started to smile instead.

The blanket itself was soft and well made, but the felt sweet potatoes appliquéd on it were no such thing. They were rough, ragged, and the stitches were visible and uneven. The piece of paper she had hit was green, and even after being punched it still looked slightly less abused then the poor felt vegetables. She flipped the paper over and grinned. He really was a miserable little soldier, right to the core.

_Your shivering is distracting. Next time you want something to eat, wear this._

Instead of his name he'd signed it with his skull symbol, as if he had half-thought about trying to be anonymous. It was kind of adorable.

The clock only read 11:30, so Natsumi threw the blanket over her shoulders, and ran down the stairs and out onto the back porch. Giroro was still sitting by a small fire, just like she had hoped he would be. He had noticed her too, undoubtedly because of her noisy entrance and she could have sworn she saw him smile for a second. She wasn't sure though, since there wasn't any trace of it when she sat next to him.

"Hmph, good to see you can follow directions." He said instead of any sort of greeting, handing her a wonderfully roasted sweet potato with a shrug. She could never figure out how he always seemed to have one ready for her, but she wasn't complaining.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she scoffed, matching his blunt tone, "I'm not going to make a habit of it." He smirked at that, and she grinned in return.

Still grinning, she put down the warm roasted vegetable without taking a bite, and dug the crumpled Christmas decoration out of her pocket where she had hastily shoved it when she ran down to see him. She hadn't been quite confident it would go over well at first, but his smirk had encouraged her. He looked both puzzled and unimpressed when she handed the decoration to him, and she tried to swallow a giggle.

"What is _this_?"

"It's your present. But, you do need to hold it over your head for it to work."

"Why?" he asked, even as he dutifully complied.

"Because it's mistletoe, Giroro. Merry Christmas."

The blanket kept her nice and warm as she finished her sweet potato, and if the steam coming off him as he held his cheek was any indication, he was pretty warm too.


End file.
